What Gets Lost In Translation
by Lemniscate35173
Summary: "Poetry is what gets lost in translation." -Robert Frost. A collection of Harry Potter poems featuring various characters and various pairings.
1. Aquamarine

The water

was blue

in the light

of the setting sun.

No,

not blue,

aquamarine

With thousands

of tiny diamonds

sparkling on the surface

of the clear,

aquamarine water.

The sand

is warm

but not too warm.

Just warm enough

that for one second,

if you close your eyes,

You can feel

like you're somewhere

in paradise.

He comes up

behind her.

His arms

encircle her waist.

She leans back contentedly.

This moment

is a slice

of paradise.

They are away

from all the plagues

the war has given birth to.

Here,

they can relax

and be free.

Or can they?

It does not start

with a huge rampage.

For once,

the enemy uses the cunning

they are supposed

to possess.

Slowly,

but surely,

the sky

of their paradise

begins to darken.

The enemy

does not give

warning.

They attack the beach

without mercy,

setting panic

upon the crowd.

A flash of green light.

The scream of a mother

as her child drops lifeless

onto the warm,

but not too warm,

sand.

The man and the woman

stand up.

Their world

is already

a swirl of instincts

and battle strategy.

A flash of sickly yellow,

not the yellow

lighting up

the aquamarine sea.

A blood-curdling shriek.

The woman falls,

her shrieks

of indescribable agony

cutting like knives

through the panic.

It stops,

for a second.

Then,

the panic resumes

more chaotic than ever.

A flash of red

and the enemy is unconscious

for now.

The woman's screams stop,

but she is still

on the sand.

The man

hovers over her protectively.

Colors fly

out of the stick in his hand

at alarming rates.

The woman,

with shaking hands,

gropes along the surf,

for the stick to match his own.

More of the enemy falls.

Their bodies

hit the sand

where the woman lay

just moments before

with sickening thuds.

The man is not deterred.

The woman

has found her stick,

but her hands

still shake.

The colors

coming out of her stick

are dull and flat.

Each red light

makes the enemy

drop for only

a few seconds.

The man

looks over to

the woman.

There is an understanding

in both of their eyes.

The lights that come out of the man's stick

are no longer red,

But the same

sickly green

as those of the enemy.

After that, the enemy stays down.

The woman's lights

are still red.

Her arm

flies out,

and meets nothing but air.

An animal

bursts out

of the woman's stick.

It shines like the moon,

made up of nothing,

but vapor.

The woman's legs tremble

and she is down on the sand

once more.

The man covers her

like this is nothing new.

The woman's animal

gallops across the water.

Her eyes are heavy.

She cannot move,

she cannot defend herself.

But she is too broken to care.

Her thoughts swirl around her head

like a bag in the wind.

The world goes double,

now triple.

She does not see the allies arrive.

The last thing she sees

is the water,

the sun

shining over its blue depths.

Not blue,

she reminds herself,

aquamarine.


	2. Marvin the Mad Muggle

It started

With a comic book

Tossed

Into a long neglected pile

Of childhood memories

Rubbish

She thought it was

Just another thing

He hadn't bothered to clean up

So she went

And she picked it up

She didn't pay it much mind

At first

But then she got thinking

About what it really meant

Is this what they think

People

Real, living people

Who aren't like them

Are like

She asked herself

Do they really think

That all we do

Is bumble around

Do they think

That because we don't have magic

We can't do anything

Anything right

Is this

How they would have treated me

If not for a fluke

In the way I was born

Do they think

That my parents

Are incompetent

That I

Would be incompetent

What was it like

To grow up

Knowing there were people

Who weren't given

The gift

That you were given

To know

There were things you could do

That they could never do

No matter how hard

They tried

Then she put it out of her mind

Until the next time

She found the comic book

And she thought again

Do they really think this way

About us

About me

Because really

She was raised

As one of them

She knew

What they could do

How they lived

Just how competent

They really were

But the comic

In the comic

They were useless

Mad, even

It was even in the title

Marvin

The Mad Muggle

She wasn't mad

Her parents

They weren't mad either

No one

Was like Marvin

The Mad Muggle

They worked

They rested

They lived

They loved

All without magic

Marvin

The Mad Muggle

Maybe he was mad

After all


	3. Worse

"This could not get any worse." she says, looking at the piece of paper.

How wrong she was.

She thought that a failed test was the end of the world

And that everyone was a good person

She thought that grades would be a measure

Of the success you will have in life

And that everything

Was meant to come easily to her

Magic didn't come easy to her.

Every spare moment was spent studying,

Every but of time for herself spent on old tomes of obscure magic

She told herself that if she did this, she would be accepted.

If she did this, people would like her.

She was delusional.

They didn't care about grades

Or personality

Or merit

All they cared about was lineage

And the money to back it up.

She was naïve.

She was stupid.

She was weak.

She was just about everything she thought she wasn't supposed to be.

And she knew it like she knew that 2+2=4 and B came after A

Overall, she was just a brain.

With big faith in the system and a bit of determination.

She looked into the thoughtless eyes

And her own thoughtless words what seemed like decades ago

And thought,

Thing can _always_ get worse.


	4. Harsh

Reality was harsh.  
She wish she had realized that sooner.

She wouldn't have spent all of that time  
Precious time  
Mooning away over boys  
Or looks  
Or anything like that.

She wouldn't have yelled  
And blamed  
And bickered  
Over the petty little things.

The paper lays on the table.  
Her seventeen year old face stares back at her.  
It is not her face.

The headline says:  
Remembering the Fight for Freedom.

Ridiculous.  
They cannot remember the battle.

The crash of walls  
Blasted off ancient holds.  
The dancing lights  
Disguising something all the more sinister  
And the blinding panic  
Of realizing the one person you have to save  
Is no longer by your side.

And suddenly she is seventeen again  
And she is running through corridors  
Desperately crying  
Searching  
For the person who had been at her side  
Since their very birth.

She can feel the dust  
Its sailing clouds filling up her lungs.

A flash of green  
Soaring over her head.  
Her cheek is pressed against gravel  
Cutting a thin red line through her flesh.

And she is looking  
Into her own dead eyes  
Panic etched permanently in her face.

There is a crash  
Of china hitting the ground.  
It is currently clear  
Making the world seem less vivid.

She is in her flat  
With a broken teacup on the floor  
And the newspaper on the table.

Reality is harsh  
But memories are harsher.


	5. Regret

Be proud of your scars

They say

You are a hero

They say

That doesn't stop the flinches

The stares

The averted eyes

And the way the crowds part

With one look at my face

I used to be so obsessed with beauty

I spent hours

On a mask

That didn't make me miraculously prettier

I tried to put on a mask once

Just to see

If it would hide the scars

It didn't.

We fought for freedom

We fought for justice

We fought

For our liberation

And I don't regret that

Being one of the ones who fought

But I do regret being weak

I regret letting it come

To a final battle

And I regret

Being the weak one

Whose face

Was ripped to shreds

And I regret

Being the type of person

Who didn't understand what was happening

Until it was staring me in the face

With cold, unmerciful eyes

I wouldn't wish this on anyone else

I regret being the weak one

But what I regret

Is that I was the one on the ground

Not the soulless bastard who would've done this to anyone

Man, woman or child

If I could see myself now.

I was a carefree teen

With my only regrets

Being that I didn't wake up on time

Or that I didn't study as much

And an alabaster face

That I slathered with makeup

Because I thought it would make me better

Would I really go back to that

If I could

Would I really want to go back

To being that shallow person

Who didn't know a thing about the world around her

And didn't know

What true regret felt like

Because if there is one thing I don't regret

It's knowing just how hard

It is

To carry the real burden of regret

On one person's shoulders


	6. A Vessel

Mother used to tell me stories.

Stories of heroes,

Rescuing princesses and saving the kingdom

And coming home with big celebrations

Living happily ever after

I would sit on the edge of my bed

And mother would comb my hair

And each night

I would hear of

Heroes and villains

And princes and princesses.

My favorite wasn't like any of the others though.

Mother said it was an old legend

But Astoria knew

Mother liked to make up her own stories

It was a legend

Supposedly

About a girl

Who played at the edge

Of a gaping wide river

Despite everyone's warnings.

Everyday

The girl strayed closer and closer

To bank of the river.

After a while

She was splashing with the fishes

And wearing the river on her clothes.

She went farther and farther out

Farther and farther away

From any possible help.

One day

She went too far.

She followed after a fish

Much mightier than she

With no thoughts,

Of the effects.

The only person around

Was a boy from the neighboring village

"Help!"

She cried out

As the water got high over her head

"Help, please!"

"I'm not helping you."

The boy answered

"You made fun of my fishing vessel."

Indeed, though she had not meant to.

The boy was proud

Of being able to afford a high end

"Fishing Vessel".

He had flaunted it around town

Both his and the girl's.

"It's my fishing vessel."

He said.

"Why, that's a boat, stupid."

The girl had said when she heard.

"No,"

The boy replied

"It's a fishing vessel. Not some stupid boat."

The girl said it was a boat.

And the boy knew that a fishing vessel

Was much better than a stupid boat

And he knew the girl knew it too.

So, he left the girl

Struggling in the muddy waters

Where she had once played

With a smile on her face.

The day after that

The fishing vessel

Boat

Sank

With the boy on board.

Because the girl had drowned

He became the guardian of the river

Keeping all of the girls who played on the river

From ever drowning

Like the other girl

I knew the boy was the bad guy.

Still, it had fascinated her

To have him become a good guy

And protect people.

I hadn't

As a young child

Understood that it was supposed to be a punishment

Being forced to save all of the children.

Now

I thought that maybe

It wasn't saving the children that was the punishment.

Maybe it was having to see the girls

And know that he had killed

One just like them.

Maybe it was having to see

The struggling face of the girl he let drown

Reflected in all the happy faces

Of the girls playing in his river.

I still see it

In my young happy son.

The boy

Twitching on the floor

His voice no longer able to beg or scream.

I see him like this,

Like my son

Perhaps with a son of his own

And know it will never be

Because I am a coward.


	7. Imagined

Sometimes she wonders

She wonders about life would be like

If she had been born

In a different time

Would she be carefree

A young girl

Exploring the wonders of nature

Running around in flower fields

Marveling at the colors

Of a butterfly's wing

Or perhaps

She would be a musician

With shiny black shoes

And bows in her hair

Letting the crescendo of her notes

Break over her like a wave

All the time she wondered

She imagined

She saw

She saw herself happy

Innocent

Unmarred by the terror of war

And the expectations

Of a lady of proper blood

She saw herself whole again

Not as she was now

The misshapen shards

Of a shattered girl

That grew into a shattered woman

She doesn't just see herself as a child

Sometimes she imagines

She married someone else

A person who was whole

Instead of the even more broken man

She married

With the hope that

Two wrongs equaled a right

A sin wasn't a sin if no one caught you

And two broken things would make a whole

She was wrong and so she was stuck

Imagining that she had found someone

Who would fix her

Instead of breaking her even more

Maybe she married an artist

Who taught her to paint

And how to mend

Or maybe she married a shopkeeper

Who let her sit at the register

And she would learn how to smile again

By looking at the faces of all the happy customers

Who she made happy

There was one thing that never changed

No matter what she imagined

Her son

Her precious, darling son

Was always the same

Because she could not imagine

Any change that would make him better

Than he already was


	8. Silver and Green

She knew they were resented

Hated

Thought of as spoiled and pampered under the new regime

It wasn't like they chose this

To be born to a certain set of parents

To have a certain set of traits

They weren't actually spoiled

Didn't everyone else understand

They were under the lock and key

Of what to do

What to say

What to believe

In order to stay alive

Yes, they wanted to stay alive

They would admit that

They would admit that they agreed

When they didn't agree

And didn't help those who did disagreed

That was the way to stay alive

No matter if they were called cowards

Because what was the point in being brave

If all it led to

Was a body on the ground

She just wanted to be free

Free from the expectations

Of the people around her

People

Where not meeting expectations

Meant another body on the ground

She wanted to be free

From the looks

That wearing silver and green got her

And she wanted to be free

From waking up in the morning

And feeling her shoulders tense as soon as she came to

And making sure that her status was prominently shown

And wishing she could just go back to sleep

So that she would have to look at this ugly world

She would never do that though

Some might think of it was a last resort

But those people weren't the ones wearing silver and green

Because silver and green meant survival

No matter what it cost


	9. I Have To Get Back

Professor Dumbledore was standing over me.

His robes were the usual

brightly flamboyant colors

but something was different.

"Professor,"

I asked

"Where are your pants?"

Dumbledore laughed.

His long beard wiggled

and ticked the ground.

"Why, I do believe I've forgotten to put them on."

Dumbledore answered.

"Professor,"

I asked once again

"Why do your underwear have hippogriffs on them?"

"That's something

that you need to figure out by yourself."

He told me, and with a laugh

he walked away,

popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

The next to appear

was Sirius's grandmother.

She was still a painting.

She screamed at me

and then disappeared too.

I still didn't know why Dumbledore's underwear had hippogriffs.

A young girl

walked on.

"Who're you?"

I asked

I seemed to be doing a lot of asking

But not a lot of answering

She said

"It doesn't matter who I am.

Only who you are."

"Do I know you?"

I asked again.

She looked familiar.

Her face was soft

and her eyes were piercing

electric blue.

She laughed.

Familiar.

But where?

"I just said that doesn't matter."

She swung her legs. She was smiling too.

"I think we can be friends."

I nodded.

She smiled wider.

"Good."

She walked closer to me.

"But you know, you can't stay here forever."

I looked back

puzzled.

Where else could I go?

"There are people who are waiting for you."

She said.

Her words awoke something.

Names.

Faces.

People.

Hermione.

Hermione.

He needed to get back to her.

He was somewhere else.

He hurt. Everywhere.

Hermione was standing over him.

"Hermione."

He croaked.

"Ron."

She said.

"Can you hear me?"

He tried to nod.

Let Hermione know

he was okay.

And he was back.

The girl was there.

No Hermione.


End file.
